


Eyes of Silver

by BrynTWedge



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Brotherly Love, Chubby Mycroft Holmes, Dogs, Fluff, Greg gets a dog, M/M, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft gets a dog, Shy Mycroft, Silver the Shepherd Mix, Snowflake the Husky, Unpleasant Holmes Parents, Young Mycroft Holmes/Young Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2019-10-23 16:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17687282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrynTWedge/pseuds/BrynTWedge
Summary: The day a puppy finds Mycroft out on the grounds of Musgrave, is the day Mycroft's life changes forever.Set when Mycroft is sixteen; he's doing his A-Levels and going to leave home for university next year. He's shy and introverted, usually focusing on just his schoolwork or minding his hurricane little brother. Once he takes responsibility for 'Sherlock's' dog, who bonds strongly to Mycroft, he finds there's more to life than just work - love, care, and fun.That's how Mycroft meets Greg, a fellow dog owner. Slowly he learns how to love and be loved by not only a dog, but by the stunningly handsome boy of his dreams.Suddenly Mycroft isn't so afraid of going to university anymore, knowing he won't be alone.





	1. Chapter 1

It was a day like any other. Mycroft was, as ever, watching over his baby brother. He loved Sherlock dearly, but being seven years older was trying at times; his little brother seemed forever wanting to be outside exploring the grounds. Mycroft enjoyed the scenery, often depicting it in his artwork, but his time was strained.

Genius or not, Mycroft needed to study and produce assignments. Having no social life to speak of helped balance school and his parents’ rather sternly intimidating demands that he escort their beloved Sherlock wherever and whenever the energetic nine-year-old demanded. It wasn’t an adversity, though – he’d do anything for Sherlock.

  

“Careful, Sherlock,” he muttered as he watched the mess of curls climb up over a log.

“I am, Myckie,” came the little reply. “The treasure’s this way!”

“Can’t you play over by the house?” he asked, exasperated. “It could be dangerous out here.”

“Pirates don’t fear nothing!”

 

Mycroft sighed. He was looking forward to the day that Sherlock decided he was too old to play pirates. The boy had a knack for getting himself into trouble as he explored the ‘new worlds’ of their parents’ estate.

He could see little Sherlock play amidst the bushes from his vantage point at the log, and so he sat and watched fondly as a plant took a beating with a wooden sword.  

Mycroft had learnt better than to bring a sketchbook (or any other kind of book for that matter) along with him. It only took a blink of an eye for his little brother to disappear into a ditch or get lost in the trees. There was also, of course, Sherlock’s protests that Mycroft was ignoring him.

 

He could empathise with his brother’s loneliness. Growing up, Mycroft never had childhood friends, nor did he have anyone now. He’d been home schooled right up until taking his GCSE’s, two years younger than his peers, and the subsequent tormenting that had ensued had left him thankful for it – he had not developed any social skills to interact with them, let alone any resilience or shielding for his sensitive soul.

He was doing his A-Levels now, still two years early, and had learnt to hide behind an uncaring and brash mask. The workload was mind-numbingly easy still, and so his results alone were enough to cause torment no matter how hard he tried to keep out of the other students’ way.

He was afraid of how Sherlock was going to cope next year, as his parents had decided it’d be good for the boy to interact with others his age so ‘he won’t turn out like Mycroft’.

 

A noise to his left startled him out of his thoughts. He looked towards the rustle, ready to defend his brother, when out stumbled a dog. Mycroft stared, realising it was only a pup of about three months; somewhat skinny, and starting to look lanky with its long legs. The young dog stared back with bright amber eyes.

It was obviously at least part shepherd – perhaps a Belgian Malinois – but with a white, grey, and black coat. Its muzzle was dark, as were the large pointed ears, but its face was white and grey, much like the rest of its body except for black tipped fur on its back. Its markings were like that of a wolf – perhaps it was part Czechoslovakian Wolfdog, or maybe husky?

“Oh, a puppy!”

Mycroft realised he’d been staring at the dog, cataloguing its features, for some time as soon as Sherlock’s cry jolted his protective instincts.

“Stay back, Sherlock. It might bite.”

Sherlock knelt on the ground next to him, reaching his hand out to beckon the dog closer. The pup had remained staring at Mycroft until deciding Sherlock’s hand might contain food, and cautiously stepped closer to sniff.

“Where’d he come from?”

“We don’t know if it’s a–” Mycroft stopped mid-sentence after seeing that his little brother was indeed correct. “He could be lost.”

“Or a stray,” Sherlock said hopefully.

Mycroft didn’t comment. He’d felt a strange connection with the animal as it had continued to stare at him. He did like dogs, and knew lots about them, but knew his parents wouldn’t ever let him get one and so had never asked. Also secretly, he was afraid that if he did have a dog, it would sense his anxiety and try to bite him.

“Careful,” Mycroft reminded as the pup got close enough to sniff Sherlock’s hand.

“He’s cute.”

“Yes.” Mycroft had to agree. He slid off the log slowly and knelt upon the ground. The puppy instantly ignored Sherlock in favour of greeting him.

He held his hand out for it to sniff, but instead it rubbed its head on his palm. It was soft, softer than he’d expected, and warm. A strange feeling of affection and serenity filled his chest as the dog licked his hand and begged for more attention.

Mycroft smiled gently as he used his fingers to scratch the fur behind the dog’s dark ears. The puppy tried to help with its foot, causing Mycroft to giggle.

“Can I keep him, Myc? Can I?”

Mycroft winced. “I’m not sure, Sherlock; it’s not my decision.”

Secretly, Mycroft hoped that his parents’ love for Sherlock and his brother’s frankly excellent skills of getting his way would let the dog stay.

 

“You look happy, Myckie,” Sherlock commented innocently. “You don’t look happy that often.”

“No, I suppose not,” he uttered.

“All the more reason for the puppy to stay!”

“Try not to get your hopes up, Sherlock. He might have a home already.”

“There’s no one else around here, though,” Sherlock moaned. It was true; they were far from their neighbours, and even then, a lost pup wouldn’t be of concern them.

“He could be feral,” Mycroft suggested. Honestly the dog didn’t look it, but he had learnt not to trust people that appeared kind enough, and applied that lesson to animals too.

His little brother’s eyes lit up. “He’s part wolf? He looks it! He’ll make a great first mate!”

“There aren’t any wolves in Britain anymore, Sherlock.”

“I can pretend anyway.”

“Yes, you’re good at that,” Mycroft laughed. He ruffled his brother’s hair.

“Oi, stop it,” Sherlock protested, and batted his hand away. His brother was adorable with his mop of dark curls, unbroken pale skin, and bright blue eyes constantly filled with wonder. He knew he, on the other hand, was far less attractive; he had wavy auburn hair, his skin pale and freckled, was far too pudgy for his liking, with a long pointed nose and eyes a mix of grey and blue.

“Do you have a leash?”

“A leash? No, I forgot to pack it,” Mycroft said with a smile. Sherlock rolled his eyes and huffed. “How about this, Sherlock,” he continued. “If the puppy follows us home, then it’s a sign that he wants to be with us.”

“Ok. But what should we call him to follow us?”

Mycroft looked at the dog, rolling before him asking for his belly to be rubbed. It looked up at him, tongue lolling out of its mouth in a crazed grin.

“Silver,” Mycroft said, the name coming to him from somewhere deep inside.

“Perfect! It’s like Long-John Silver, but a dog! Avast ye, Silver matey,” Sherlock cried, pointing the sword at the dog.

Mycroft laughed again when the dog bit into the wood, much to Sherlock’s upset. He picked the puppy up, which made it let go of the toy, and cuddled him close. He looked down fondly, rubbing his head, and uttered, “Hello, Silver.”


	2. Chapter 2

As expected, their parents were less than pleased to have a dog show up on the doorstep. Sherlock had carried Silver inside and announced that they had a dog now, and was currently having an argument with Mummy and Father about keeping it.

“But Mummy, I want him.”

“No, Sherlock. You want him now, but in a few days you will lose interest.”

“I promise I won’t Mummy. I’ll take good care of him.”

“You’re far too young to be responsible for another life, son,” Father added. His eyes flicked up to Mycroft. “You prove difficult enough to be looked after yourself.”

“But I want a puppy!”

“Sherlock,” their mother, Violet, warned. “Don’t whinge. You’re too old to throw tantrums now.”

“But he makes me happy, Mummy! And he makes Mycroft happy too.”

Violet looked up at Mycroft and rolled her eyes with a huff, indicating her stance on that particular matter. “You’re both perfectly happy enough as things are,” she said, looking directly at Mycroft.

Mycroft sunk into himself. He never was any good at confrontations, and usually just accepted whatever was doled out to him as far as his parents were concerned. His heart whimpered though; he never felt happy, but he had to present as fine since it was what his parents expected of him.

“Sherlock, the point remains that you can’t look after it, and neither I nor your mother are going to.”

“I’ll do it,” Mycroft said quietly, his heart racing.

“What?”

He cleared his throat and spoke louder. “I said I’ll look after him. The dog.”

“What do you want a dog for, Mycroft?” Mummy sneered.

“I-I…” he faltered. He swallowed and steadied himself. “I want Sherlock to be happy. He needs company, and it will be good for him to slowly learn responsibility.”

Mummy looked at him, considering. Mycroft still felt like it was hard to breathe as he waited. She squinted, looked at Sherlock, and then to Father.

“Siger?” she asked softly.

“It’s up to you. I don’t mind.”

“I’m _not_ doing anything with it.”

“No, Mycroft has said he will be entirely responsible.”

 

Mummy turned back to Mycroft and waited. Mycroft sunk lower. “Please, Mummy.”

Mycroft hated having to address her as such, being sixteen, but his mother had made it clear that there was no other option. Some might think it sweet of her, but Mycroft knew it was a means to reinforce subservience in him.

She nodded, content, and then said, “Alright. But, if that dog causes any problems, or you don’t keep a handle on it, then it’s gone… understood?”

“Yes, Mummy,” Mycroft responded. His heart was still hammering in his chest. He was still desperate to go to his room to let the emotions out, let the mask fall, but he couldn’t help but smile at the beaming grin Sherlock gave him.

“Thank you Myckie, thank you!” Sherlock gripped him in a tight hug, a happy Silver squished between them.

“Mind Silver, Sherlock,” Mycroft said, putting space between them. Silver tried to lick their faces, paying no mind to the tight space. He was already fairly large, and undoubtedly would be too big for Sherlock to lift soon.

“When can we go buy things for him?”

Mycroft looked up at his parents; Mummy shrugged and walked away, and Father smiled at him before following. “Tomorrow Sherlock,” he said. “For tonight, we’ll keep him in my room.”

“Why not with me?”

_Because I don’t trust Silver yet._ “Because he’s not house trained, and will need to be let out often during the night. It’s one of my responsibilities.”

Sherlock nodded and accepted it. Mycroft was honestly surprised that not only were they permitted to have the dog, but that it was allowed inside the house – he wasn’t going to question it, though.

 

He pulled out one of his old blankets to use as a bed for Silver, and some newspaper to put on the floor. He grabbed a bottle of disinfectant and a bucket of water, ready for the inevitable.

Silver was extremely excited to be inside. He barked happily, which made Mycroft jerk at the volume. _That’s something I’ll have to start training out of him right away_ , he thought.

“Now, Sherlock, you can’t come in tonight even if you hear Silver barking and whining, ok?”

“Why not?”

“We don’t want him to learn that whining gets him attention.” He knelt down on the ground to be at eye level with his brother. “The most important thing from now on is for us to be consistent in what we teach him. That means that we can’t let him do something even once, understand?”

Sherlock tilted his head. “Why?”

Mycroft pursed his lips, thinking how to explain extinction behavioural theory to his little brother. “He’ll learn he all he needs to do is increase the severity of that bad behaviour until he gets what he wants; and he’ll keep doing it even if he doesn’t.”

“That’s silly. I complain to Mummy all the time and she always gives me what I want.”

_Yes, I know, case and point._ “Promise me, Sherlock, that you’ll do what I say regarding Silver, and only what I say. Otherwise, Mummy and Father will think I haven’t controlled him, and will get rid of him.”

“Ok Myc.” Sherlock nodded seriously. Mycroft blinked; it was strange to see his brother listen to him so honestly. “Can I say goodnight?”

“Of course.”

Sherlock gave Silver a big cuddle, kissed his head, and then left the bedroom. Silver didn’t seem to mind, and instead wagged his tail while looking at Mycroft.

“Good boy, Silver,” he cooed, rubbing the dog’s head. It was nice having him there. “On your bed.”

Silver tilted his head. Mycroft pointed at the blanket and repeated the command. Silver barked at him instead.

“No, shhh, no Silver. On your bed.” _I really need some treats or something for this._ Then Mycroft realised he hadn’t brought up any food. “Stay,” he said, raising his hand and keeping it out to the dog.

He smiled when he saw that Silver seemed to understand. He left to the kitchen, trying to find something for Silver to eat.

 

“You need to stop eating, Mycroft,” Mummy’s voice sounded as he looked in the fridge. “You know this already.”

He froze and stood straight. “It’s for Silver,” he said quickly.

“There’s some leftovers in the blue container.” Mycroft hesitated, and Violet noticed that he’d wanted to say something. “What is it?”

“That’s, uh,” he said, mumbling. He remembered the time he was chided for it, and so tried to speak clearer. “It’s stir-fry, Mummy.”

“And?”

“It has onion in it.”

“What’s your point?”

“Dogs can’t have onion.”

“Pfft,” she hissed. “It’ll be fine. The meat’s too good to waste on the dog.”

“Yes, Mummy.”

He knew it was pointless to argue. He’d just pick the onion out. Some dogs could have a little onion fine, and others got very ill, and so he didn’t want to take the chance. He took the container, and the two bowls he had pulled out of the cupboard, upstairs.

 

Silver barked happily when he returned, but Mycroft forced himself to ignore him. Silver barked again and jumped up, but Mycroft continued to ignore him. Once the pup was standing still and quiet, Mycroft addressed him and petted him.

He filled the bowl with the left overs, and sat on the bed picking out the onion pieces. Silver barked happily for the food, but Mycroft continued to ignore him. Only once he was finished, and Silver was quiet, did he put the bowl on the floor.

Warmth radiated through him as he watched the little animal eat. He ran his hand over Silver’s back, the soft feel of the fur calming him. He was glad that the pup took notice of his touch, but decided to ignore him. Mycroft knew it was best not to touch dogs while they ate, but he’d rather train Silver not to snap around food.

 

Mycroft took Silver outside to pee. It took a moment, but eventually the pup worked out what Mycroft wanted from him. Silver bounded back into the house, following Mycroft up the stairs and into the bedroom.

Silver jumped up onto the bed. Mycroft opened his mouth to scold him, but then decided that he didn’t mind cuddling the dog on his bed.

He changed into pyjamas and climbed into bed. Silver thought it was a game, and tried to chew on his hands and play tug with the blanket.

“No, boy,” he said, pulling the pup up close and holding him. “It’s bedtime.”

Silver licked his face. Mycroft chuckled, knowing he shouldn’t allow it, but it made him feel happy that the animal was showing him affection. He put his hand up to stop Silver’s tongue, and the pup rubbed his face on it again.

Mycroft fell into a calm trance as he ran his hand over Silver’s body. He hadn’t felt this settled in some time, and he was suddenly saddened that the dog was supposed to be Sherlock’s. _It’s a little untoward of me,_ he thought as he held the relaxed warm body against his own, _but I’ll tell Sherlock he’s technically mine since he’s my responsibility._

He lay down in the bed, not particularly caring if Silver snuggled up against him or if he returned to his own bed. It was the first time in a while he’d fallen asleep that quickly with a smile on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

Silver was very excited to smell everything at the pet store. Mycroft had just a rope tied around his neck, the only thing he could find, and the poor pup was almost strangling himself in desperate attempts to sniff things.

Mycroft scowled at him for pulling, and tugged him closer, but didn’t want to hurt him. He and Sherlock walked towards the collars first.

“Oh, this one, Myckie, it’s got spikes!”

Sherlock pulled out a large black collar with metal spikes. It was intimidating to look at.

“No, Sherlock. Nothing so… scary.”

“What collars do pirate dogs wear?”

“I don’t know, Lock. Maybe you can find a bandana for Silver?”

The sheer glee in his brother’s eyes made Mycroft’s heart melt. Sherlock darted off to look for a bandana, curls bobbing through the aisles. Silver just stood at Mycroft’s feet and watched him go.

“Let’s get you something more sensible, eh?” Mycroft said to him, and the pup smiled up at him.

He looked through the collars, disliking the neon coloured nylon that seemed to dominate the collection. Silver didn’t seem like a flashy patterned kind of dog.

“Can I help you make a choice?”

Mycroft turned to see a young woman with long brown hair tied in a ponytail smiling at him.    

“I’m looking for equipment for my dog. I’ll need everything, as you can see.” Mycroft indicated to the rope in his hand.

“Haven’t had a dog before?” she asked genially.

“No,” he responded. _Is it that obvious?_

“You’ve got some good times ahead for you, then. Dogs are wonderful companions. And what’s this little guy’s name?”

“Silver.”

Silver quickly ran up to the woman as she squatted down. She laughed as he sniffled her hands and tried to lick her face.

“He’s such a sweetie!”

Mycroft was feeling strangely uncomfortable. There was a woman in his presence and talking to him, but it wasn’t making him anxious. She had her attention entirely on Silver, and seemed to enjoy both his and Mycroft’s company. Mycroft found he wasn’t stressing about appearances or judgement while it was his dog receiving the attention.

“You’ll want to get a collar that’s a bit large for now,” she said as she stood up. “He’ll grow like lighting, that’s for sure. Some people buy just the adult collar from this age, but I’d recommend you buy two. It’s more comfortable on them to have a smaller one until they’re about six to eight months, and then you can get a larger one.”

Mycroft nodded. He looked back over the collars.

“There’s quite a variety. Have you thought about what kind you’re after?”

“Nothing too bright.”

Silver barked up at the lady, demanding attention.

“Don’t answer him,” Mycroft said immediately. “Only when he’s quiet.”

The woman, Molly he read on her name tag, nodded with a smile. Mycroft was mid-scolding himself for being so harsh, expecting a snide response, when she did… it was a new experience.

Molly gave Silver a scratch on his ear when he’d calmed down. “It’s good to start training right away. Now, with the collars. You can choose a plain clip buckle kind, a leather buckle kind, a semi-choker kind, or a full chain choker kind.”

Mycroft looked down at Silver, who looked up at him innocently. He didn’t want to use a choker chain. “The leather one sounds good,” he said, thinking it had a classic appeal.

Molly moved along the rack and pulled out a bright brown leather one. “There’s this, or we have a really dark brown one too.”

“Dark, please.”

She pulled one out that she thought would be Silver’s size and clipped it around his neck. Silver looked confused, but decided it was fine since he was getting attention.

“What sort of leash did you want? For basic training, the standard nylon leash is best at first.”

“Yeah, alright. A black one, I think,” Mycroft answered. He walked along the shelf towards the leashes, and picked out one that he thought would work well. He clipped it onto Silver’s collar, who grinned at him and tried to lick his face.

 

“Myckie! I found one!”

Sherlock came bounding back, clutching a green bandana to his chest.

“That’s an anxiety bandana,” Molly explained. “Just in case you were looking for a normal one. We have some over with the dog outfits.”

Mycroft found the idea of ‘dog outfits’ ridiculous, but Sherlock’s eyes brightened and he made to run off again.

“Wait, Lock, I’ll come with you and help you pick one,” Mycroft said quickly, hoping to be in time to discourage the boy should he find a pirate costume of some description.

“Want me to hold Silver?”

Molly smiled and held out her hand. Mycroft hesitated, but nodded and passed the leash over. The moment he started to walk away, however, Silver tried to follow and became distressed that he wasn’t able to.

“He’s really attached to you,” Molly said affectionately. “Better take him too.”

Mycroft knew it wasn’t entirely a good thing for Silver to be unable to be left alone, but warmth bloomed through his chest at knowing the little creature genuinely wanted to be with him. No one ever _wanted_ to be with him, just for him.

He took the leash, and Silver happily rubbed up against his leg. Mycroft bent down and petted him, still feeling the warmth from seeing how relieved Silver was to be with him.

 

~

 

By the time they’d left the store, Mycroft had a large trolley of items and a membership to their loyalty program which included their on-site veterinary clinic.

He’d bought a leather collar, the nylon leash, a back-up leash, a harness for in the car, a large flat pillow bed, bowls for food and water, grooming equipment, a Kong chew toy, some balls and rope toys, a soft toy, training treats, a book on dog training, a large bag of dry food, some fresh meat, and of course the bandana Sherlock found.

He waited for their father to arrive back with the car, giving treats to Silver for sitting at his heel. The pup was happy to obey, but had a short attention span. He’d get curious about a smell or sound, and try to investigate. Mycroft found it endearing. Silver did want to be obedient, but had the same kind of enquiring mind that he himself had.

It had only taken all of five minutes for Silver to learn ‘sit’. He was obviously an intelligent dog. Mycroft knew shepherds (and huskies, if he had some of that in him) were highly intelligent, and had hoped that Silver reflected his heritage in that respect. It made Mycroft feel more like having a companion than just a pet. Not that he wouldn’t be enamoured with the dog otherwise – it was just nice to feel chosen for more than providing food.

 

Father seemed pleased with what he’d bought, which was a relief. Mycroft noticed that their father seemed to be rather taken by Silver too, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the dog itself or because of how obviously happy it made Sherlock.

The ride back home was filled with Sherlock’s giggles as he played with Silver in the backseat. Usually their car rides were silent, the radio being the only words to listen to, and conversations were only by necessity (usually for less-than-positive reasons).

Upon arriving home, Sherlock bolted from the car and tried to make Silver follow him out to play. The pup ran a few paces before stopping, looking back at Mycroft, and then returning to the car.

Sherlock was displeased, and Mycroft knew he should send the dog out to play with his little brother, but he was happy that Silver chose him.

“Here, Sherlock. Take these treats and Silver will follow you,” Siger, their father, said. He handed the bag to Sherlock. “Best to make him bond with you from the get go.”

Mycroft sighed and began unloading the car. Silver followed Sherlock and gobbled the treats happily. _It’s the way it’s supposed to be_ , he told himself. He looked out to see Silver jumping up on Sherlock to get to the treats.

“Sherlock! Don’t let him jump on you, and definitely don’t give him treats for it!”

“But Myckie, he loves it!”

“You don’t want a big dog doing it, so don’t let him do it as a puppy.”

“Alright, Myc.”

Mycroft took a moment to register that Sherlock had just agreed with him. Sherlock _never_ listened that quickly. He was impressed that his little rebellious brother actually had taken what he’d said yesterday to heart. _He must really love the dog,_ he thought. _Best to leave him bond with Silver, then._

 

The moment Mycroft turned to go into the house, he heard a loud whine and a bark, and suddenly Silver was around his ankles. He chuckled fondly.

“Silver! Come here!” Sherlock cried out, but Silver just looked back at him and continued to walk with Mycroft.

“Looks like he wants you to come help set his things up, Lock,” Mycroft said to his little brother over his shoulder.

“I want to feed him!” Sherlock cried, and ran past Mycroft and into the house. Silver followed, but only so far as he could still see Mycroft with a turn of his head.

_I think I’ve just gotten a friend._ Mycroft smiled warmly to himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Silver grew quickly. It was good that he was so willing to be obedient, since it was only two months later that he was able to knock Sherlock over if he jumped up.

Silver roamed the grounds with both of them, having gotten more comfortable to be separated from Mycroft after the first month, but still preferred to have Mycroft close by. He didn’t mind; quite the opposite, actually. He could let Sherlock play further away, knowing that Silver was with him; however, he always came the moment Mycroft whistled.

It didn’t take long for Mycroft to see how protective and caring Silver was of Sherlock, and himself. It was comforting to know that instead of worrying that the dog might bite Sherlock for inadvertently doing something (a high possibility), he was assured that Silver would keep an eye on the boy closer than he ever could.

 

Mycroft spent a lot of time training Silver. He loved it, though. Silver also enjoyed their training sessions, almost as if he were a child proud to show his dad what he could do. Thankfully, the pup’s attention span grew as he did, and so Mycroft was able to do a lot before Silver got tired.

The basic commands had come easy, as had simple obedience training. Silver had a few accidents in the house, which had set his mother right off, but on the whole Mycroft found him very capable.

Pushing the boundaries was always something Mycroft never could resist, and was glad that Silver was up to the task. He’d managed to start scent-training him at (what he guessed was) six months old. He’d first started with lavender and eucalyptus, and then after a scare with his little brother, ‘Sherlock’.

 Mycroft had been frantic when he couldn’t find Sherlock that day. Silver had sensed his tension, and tried to offer cuddles. The next day, Mycroft had collected articles of clothing that smelled of Sherlock and trained Silver to seek out Sherlock on command. With help from his little brother, who found it the most brilliant game of hide-and-seek, Silver became better and better at the ‘Find Sherlock’ command.

 

Silver also had learnt things that Mycroft hadn’t taught him. He seemed to sense when Mycroft was anxious, and became exceedingly affectionate until Mycroft felt calmer. He’d learnt when the darker, depressing thoughts had taken over (which happened at times), and brought things for Mycroft to play with. If that failed, he’d lick at Mycroft’s face until he stopped crying. It was something he strictly should train out of him, but Mycroft found it so endearing that _someone_ cared when he was upset that he just let it be.

 

Mycroft had spent barely a quarter of the time he had on his studies post-Silver than before, and yet he was performing the same. He was generally happier to work, knowing it was only temporary, and could focus better.

He had no issue keeping up with the schoolwork, but had stopped trying to advance so much. The A-Levels were at a set time, a fact that once had begrudged him. Now, he didn’t mind. He had something else to occupy himself with.

 

Once Silver was six months old, Mycroft realised that he hadn’t really been socialised with other dogs or people. He’d bonded with his family, but hadn’t interacted with anyone else in his life. Mycroft wanted him to be amicable with strange people and dogs, since that provided much less stress in general regarding other people. His mother was fine leaving Silver in the yard to be a ‘guard dog’, although exactly what he was supposed to be guarding was never made clear.

 

Sherlock had gradually lost interest in caring for Silver, only seeming to be happy to play outside with the dog when he wanted to play pirates, and so hadn’t wanted to join them for a walk in town when Mycroft asked their father.

“Fine, but I’m not hanging around and I’m not coming back for three hours, you hear?” Siger addressed Mycroft sternly.

“Yes, Father.”

Silver was excited to be going outside on leash. Mycroft had trained him to walk on the leash, but Silver wasn’t always able to resist the allure of new smells. It was a work in progress, and something that being out in town might be able to help.

“Why isn’t Sherlock joining us? He seems to have lost interest in the dog, like I thought he would,” Siger said along the drive.

“He’s only young, Father. He is learning a lot with Silver, but still only when his attention is on him.”

“So you haven’t been hogging the dog, then?”

“No Father. Silver is my responsibility, but I encourage Sherlock to play with him as often as he wants to.”

_Not going to say ‘as often as I can’, because that’s not true. I like the quiet times of Silver sitting on the bed while I study, or when he snuggles with me while reading a book. It’s calming to just stroke his head and read._

 

Father dropped him off at the park in town. Theirs was a small enough community that there weren’t crowds of people everywhere to overwhelm Mycroft, but large enough that there were many shops and the people didn’t recognise him.

Silver instantly tugged on the leash to investigate the new smells. Mycroft corrected him, and whilst he was trying hard to obey, he found the allure of the smells almost too much to resist.

They started at the park. It took a while to walk around the first time, Mycroft stopping each time Silver pulled on the leash, but it was a nice day for a walk. Silver calmed down after the first half an hour, and so was able to obey Mycroft easier.

 

There were quite a lot of dog owners out walking their dogs and, to Mycroft’s surprise, few of them seemed remotely interested in being friendly to the other dog owners. He was quick to note that it was mostly those with the small breeds that wanted nothing to do with anyone else – and not in the socially anxious way Mycroft usually felt.

It was a useful skill to be able to read people so easily. Mycroft could look at them and instantly understand what kind of a person they were, and whether or not to keep his distance. The dogs they sported, if they had one, tended to give Mycroft the same impression.

Silver had no qualms with trying to say hello to any dog, however. Most of the terriers growled at him, but Silver paid them no mind and thought it good to get any interaction at all. Mycroft would have to tug him away from the little dogs in case his enthusiasm caused them to bite.

Mycroft was standing admiring the lake when a lady with the little white dog walked by. The maltese shi-tzu wasn’t on a leash; it walked up to Silver who had just turned to investigate when the white dog snarled, growled, and lunged. Mycroft flinched, and his heart leapt into his throat. His first instinct was to pull Silver away in case he retaliated, but to his relief, Silver just stood still and remained friendly and interested.

The white dog continued to try and bite, quite viciously, but Silver just stood over it wagging his tail. Mycroft could only watch, confused, at the display. _This dog should not be off-leash in a park, or around other dogs at all_ , he thought looking at the aggressive terrier.

The owner looked over and then took a few pompous steps over to where Mycroft was.

“Get your monster away from my dog!” she hissed at Mycroft. His blood ran cold and he trembled. The woman was as aggressive as her pet, and both were completely unreasonable in their attitude. He was shaken; he’d anticipated a rushed apology, which he’d prepared himself to dismiss. He had _not_ been prepared to be attacked himself for his dog’s perfect (and extremely tolerant) behaviour.

The woman tutted at him when he didn’t respond, and picked her dog up with a sneer. “You should know to keep such a brute away from others,” she growled, and left in a huff.

Mycroft drew in a sharp breath, and willed himself not to cry. He was sixteen, damn it, and wasn’t going to cry because of a nasty stranger! He hurriedly left, finding a secluded bench close by to compose himself on. Silver followed willingly.

He bent forward on the bench and wrapped his arms around himself. _Dog owners aren’t what I expected_. He bit his lip and let the air out slowly from his nose. Silver sensed something was wrong, and so sat before him and licked his nose.

Mycroft smiled and petted his head. Silver smiled, that free smile with the tongue lolling out that he did, and it calmed Mycroft’s nerves. Silver rubbed his body against his legs, and then forced himself in between his knees.

Mycroft ran his hands down Silver’s back, the soft fur calming him further. “Good boy,” he uttered, and the dog flipped his head back to look at him with those amber eyes. “You good boy.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Well, Silver, what do you think? Should we get something for lunch? Are you hungry?”

Silver perked up immediately and started wagging his tail. He’d been laying between Mycroft’s legs as he sat on the bench; they’d stayed there for some time, just watching the ducks on the lake, and so Silver had realised it was ‘resting time’.

Mycroft chuckled as Silver whined excitedly. He’d learned not to bark, but still couldn’t contain _all_ noises. _Clever pup_ , he thought. _Knows that ‘hungry’ means he’s getting food._ He rubbed Silver’s head. Silver also knew the word ‘cookie’ to mean ‘free treats’, and, unfortunately thanks to Sherlock, ‘treasure’ to mean ‘chocolate coins hidden somewhere, so find and eat before you’re caught’.

 

Mycroft stood and started walking. Silver grabbed the leash with his mouth and tried to pull Mycroft along. He found it adorable, but Mycroft knew he had to stop Silver from doing it.

“Awh, isn’t he sweet,” a passing Labrador owner commented.

Mycroft nodded, smiling, and then told Silver off for misbehaving. Silver didn’t seem to mind, since his attention was grabbed by something else. He dropped the leash and perked, suddenly thrumming with energy.

“What is it?” Mycroft asked, and then looked up to see the most beautiful creature on the planet walking towards him.

The boy, a few years his senior, had a young charm about him with a kind and carefree attitude. He was strolling wearing jeans and a leather jacket, matching the way his dark hair was spiked at the front, and had a copper husky by his side. 

Silver wagged excitedly, whimpering and then barking once. Mycroft scolded him without taking his eyes off the boy who’d noticed him and smiled warmer than the sun.

Mycroft was utterly thrown and knew his fair skin was blushing furiously. He hated how easily it gave him away. Normally he’d flee before he somehow embarrassed himself, but Silver was not letting him go anywhere. It was hard enough to stay in the same spot now that his dog had decided he desperately wanted to meet the husky.

He was too distracted by the pounding of his heart to stop Silver lunging forward, dragging Mycroft along, and bridging the gap.

“Silver!” he cried, suddenly panicking that the boy was going to yell at him too. He looked up, ready to blurt out apologies, but was struck silent with the man’s warm brown eyes.

“Oh hello there!” the boy cooed, bending down and patting Silver. “Aren’t you adorable?”

Silver was ecstatic that he was getting attention, and bounced on his toes as Greg ruffled his head. He then looked at the husky, eager to say hello, but it had hidden behind its master’s legs.

“It’s alright, Snowflake,” he said to the dog behind him. “It’s just a puppy, like you.” The boy then turned to Mycroft. “Snowflake’s really anxious around others,” he explained. “I’m trying to get him used to being around strangers and other dogs, but he isn’t having a bar of it.”

“I understand,” Mycroft answered sincerely. If given the choice, he’d have been hiding away as well. He was only just able to mask his trembling hands. _He’s talking to me,_ he said to himself over and over. _And, he’s being friendly._ It was a strange phenomenon that anyone his age talked with him at all, let alone amicably. The fact that this stunningly handsome boy was… it was incredible.

“What’s his name?” the boy asked, crouching down and ruffling Silver’s fur around his neck and receiving a lick on his cheek.

“Silver,” Mycroft responded, still stunned.

“Cute! That’s perfect. This is Snowflake, as you know,” he boy laughed. He gestured to the copper husky behind him. “He’s eight months old. I’m guessing yours is about the same?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Ha! What do you know. You are such a sweetheart,” the boy cooed into Silver’s face. “Mine is too, really, but usually when it’s just us. He gets a bit overwhelmed, the poor thing. At home he’s the most loving and affectionate creature, but outside…”

“I understand, I feel the same,” Mycroft said before he realised what he’d said. He snapped his mouth shut and blushed harder. _Why is he so easy to talk to?_

__The boy stood and looked down, watching as Snowflake crept out from behind his legs and sniffed Silver. The dog’s bright blue eyes looked from Silver to Mycroft and then back to Silver, before he took a tentative step forward and sniffed closer.

“Awwh, good boy Snowflake,” the boy praised. “This is the most he’s ever chosen to interact with someone! I’m such a proud dad.”

Mycroft could only stare in amazement at how genuine the boy was in his pride. Both of his own parents were constantly scolding, ridiculing, or dismissing his difficulties with anxiety, or any attempts made to overcome it. That there could be anything else – support for instance – was something Mycroft hadn’t experienced until Silver, and now he saw it in this stranger.

Snowflake gained some confidence when Silver just stood there, waiting, and so sniffed all along Silver’s light body with a slowly wagging tail.

“Thanks for letting him, you know, test the waters,” the boy said. “I’m Greg, by the way.”

“Mycroft.”

“Oh, lovely name!”

“It… it is?”

“Yeah, totally unique and formal. But I kinda gathered you’d have something classy, given…” Greg gestured to Mycroft, and he looked down at himself, seeing the blue waistcoat over the white shirt, dark blue trousers, and brown shoes. He bit his lip, feeling embarrassed.

“No no,” Greg said quickly, sensing his feelings. “It’s good. I’m not judging! No. I like how you look.” Greg’s eyes blew wide and he quickly added, “N-not that I mean like that, I mean, like… it’s nice. Not that I couldn’t like how you look that way, because you do look good, but…” Greg sighed and hid his face with his hands. “I’m just gonna shut up now.”

The boy’s accent thickened the quicker he rambled. Mycroft smiled, finding it extremely charming. “You’re from Somerset, aren’t you?” he asked, before realising he probably shouldn’t have. He didn’t have enough experience _conversing_ to know what was appropriate.

“Yeah,” Greg said, dropping his hands. “Most people just guess Essex.” He grinned at Mycroft. “I guess I’ve just lived here long enough for it not to be noticeable. Then again, my dad was from Essex… but Mum’s from Cornwall, so I’m just a bit of everything. Ha, that’s me all over, innit? Mongrel boy with the pure bred dog.” Greg laughed at himself, shaking his head.

“Then there’s you…” Greg gestured to Mycroft, who just arched his eyebrow. It was enough for Greg to stop and clear his throat, obviously deciding against saying anything along the lines of ‘the opposite: pure bred with the mongrel dog’.

“He’s part shepherd, yeah?” Greg asked while looking at Silver, likely changing the subject in his mind but it only served to confirm what he was going to say.

“Yes, I am not entirely sure what his genetic make-up is, but I’m fairly certain there’s a shepherd in there. Possibly a Malinois.”

“Looks like there could be some husky in there,” Greg said, grinning.

“Maybe. He certainly has the personality of one at times,” Mycroft said, looking as Silver tried to coax either Greg or Snowflake to play.

“And mine doesn’t,” Greg laughed. “But he’s my gorgeous boy,” he sung, bending down and rubbing Snowflake’s ears.

“He is a stunning husky, yes,” Mycroft agreed. “Well set with a deep chest, slender, symmetrical v markings, bright blue eyes–”

“You know a lot about dogs, eh?” Greg said, and Mycroft looked away. “Hey, again I wasn’t criticising! I think it’s awesome.”

“Really?” he asked, shy.

“Yeah. I know shit all. I only got this guy because my neighbour got him as a puppy but he wasn’t what they expected so were gonna get rid of him.”

“What did they expect?” Mycroft asked, screwing his face up. “Wait, get rid of him how?”

“Yeah I didn’t wanna know the answer to that either, so I convinced Mum to let me take him.”

“Kind of you.” Mycroft blushed again, smiling. He’d known Greg for all of ten minutes now, and he was utterly enamoured. Normally he wanted conversation over quickly, but he was trying to find more to say so he didn’t have to depart Greg’s company.

“How’d you come across yours?”

“He found me when I was watching my little brother out on my parents’ property.”

“Oh nice. How old was he?”

“About two months, I’d say.”

Greg laughed. “So you got yours at the same time as me! I got Snowflake at two months too.”

“What a coincidence,” Mycroft said blankly, simply because he’d run out of things to talk about. _Don’t leave now. I love you._

He shook his head at himself. _I can’t love him, I only just met him. And yet… stupid teenage hormones._ In the past, Mycroft hadn’t paid that much attention to the changes since puberty. He knew very early on that he was gay; but since he didn’t have interactions with many people, and generally considered himself unlikable, actually doing something about it hadn’t been a consideration.

“Well, Mycroft, were you headed somewhere or do you have time?”

“I have time,” he responded quickly. _Too quickly!_

“Great! Er, just, I-I was thinking about grabbing some lunch, and, uh,” Greg rambled, sounding nervous. “I was wondering if you’d like to join me?”

_Was he… no, he couldn’t be asking me like that, could he?_

“It’s just, Snowflake needs company, and I’ve never seen him interact with anyone like he has with your dog and he must trust you too, since he’s even come up to you.”

Mycroft told himself he deserved the crushing of his heart for letting himself hope this handsome lad who could have his pick of date would ask _him_ out.

“I’d love to,” he answered with a smile. “I was going to get some lunch as well, so it’s good timing.”

The way Greg beamed at him made Mycroft question if the invitation had actually been entirely innocent after all. The idea made his heart pound, his mouth go dry, and his palms sweat. Silver looked at him curiously, as if he could smell the change.

Greg started walking forward, and so Mycroft joined him. Silver was happy to be on the move again and even happier that his new friends were joining him. He trotted along beside Snowflake, who was trying hard to remain glued to Greg’s legs.


	6. Chapter 6

The moment Greg tied Snowflake out the front of the little café, he started to scream. Mycroft was stunned that the dog, having been entirely silent up until this point, could make such a pitiful noise.

Silver instantly tried to comfort him, nuzzling and licking his nose, but Snowflake was entirely focused on Greg walking away.

“It’s ok, Snow,” Greg apologetically soothed. He sunk and looked at Mycroft. “He’s…”

“Yeah,” Mycroft finished. Silver was tied up beside him, happy to wait for Mycroft to come back with his new friend.

“We’ll only be a minute, Snow.” Greg walked into the store and looked about. “Just getting something to go and going back to the park is alright with you, yes?”

“Certainly.” Mycroft was glad that at least the darkened café was hiding some of his blush. “Your boy wouldn’t be happy with anything else.”

“Yeah,” Greg laughed. “He’s smart; he’ll only cry if he can see me around. No point complaining if there’s no one there to complain to, right?”

 

Mycroft nodded. He inspected the glass front for something he’d like. It was a difficult decision: he needed to pick something that his companion would find appropriate yet not too indulgent, nothing too expensive to not reflect any perceived wealth differences between them, and nothing too specific so Greg wouldn’t think him too particular.

“You alright, mate?”

Mycroft looked up at Greg, who seemed a mix of concerned and amused. “Hm? Yes, of course.”

“It’s just, you’re staring at that display like you’ll be stuck with your choice for the rest of your life.”

_If I am lucky,_ Mycroft thinks to himself, looking at Greg, before chastising himself. “Just have to see which options are vegetarian,” he rationalised.

“Oh. You’re vegetarian?”

“Yes,” Mycroft answered. “My parents have not been particularly welcoming about it. I refused to eat red meat from a very young age, and ate chicken until fairly recently.”

“How come?” Greg then bit his lip, looking embarrassed. “I mean, not that it’s important–”

“It’s fine,” Mycroft interjected. “I liked chicken enough, and it was rather a necessity given the options otherwise. Last year I was able to source my own supplements for replacing meat, and so I chose to go completely vegetarian.”

To Mycroft’s surprise, Greg looked impressed. He’d expected the boy to just roll his eyes and call him silly. Mycroft wondered if Greg had been asking why be vegetarian at all, not just recently, but decided to just order instead of contemplating on it for too long.

 

They took their food back outside. Silver perked up and barked happily, wagging his tail when he saw Mycroft. It never stopped warming him inside, to see his little companion so genuinely pleased to see him. Snowflake stood and started screaming again, pulling at the leash to try and get to Greg.

Greg tried to quieten him, but nothing short of being released from the pole and standing with Greg did it. Silver waited patiently to be released, having barked only the once and remembered he wasn’t allowed to make noise.

Mycroft unclipped him and Silver was very interested in the baguette he held in his other hand, sniffling and trying to sneak a bite as Mycroft bent over. _Cheeky pup._

    

They sat at a bench in the park. Snowflake happily laid down at Greg’s feet and just looked out at the activity around him, completely ignoring Greg’s lunch. Silver, on the other hand, continued to try and steal bits no matter how much he was scolded.

“He’s pretending he’s forgotten,” Greg chuckled when Silver jumped up again.

“It’s unacceptable,” Mycroft grumbled, lifting his roll up higher and pushing Silver away. “No, Silver. You sit.”

“You know he’s probably thinking you’ll give him a bit for obeying you. So, he’s disobeying you so that you’ll tell him to sit again, giving him another chance to be a good boy and get the food.”

Mycroft looked at Greg, considering. He hummed and nodded. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”

“Just think like a husky.” Greg patted Snowflake’s head. “Creative problem solvers, they are. It’s like having a toddler.”

“He doesn’t seem like he wants any,” Mycroft said, nodding to Snowflake.

“He does,” Greg said, and pulled a bit off the meat in his roll. He put it down to Snowflake’s head, who sniffed it and took it from him extremely gently. “He just doesn’t want to beg for it.”

“Well behaved,” Mycroft mused. He looked at Silver, who was practically thrumming out of his skin trying to sit and wait for the food. “You could learn a lot from him,” he told Silver.

“Yeah, but yours doesn’t howl when left alone, or snap at people who grab him.”

“He bites?”

“Yeah. I am trying to train him not to, but he just gets so terrified when people he doesn’t know grab him that he does the only thing he knows to escape.”

“Yeah, I can understand that,” Mycroft said, looking down at the copper husky. “Poor thing. I’d imagine it’d be stressful for you, too.”

“It is, actually,” Greg said, sounding surprised that Mycroft would consider him. “I have to be careful that idiots don’t decide to grab his collar or something. It’s exhausting.” Greg sighed and leant forward. “I love him to bits, but he’s just so scared of strangers hurting him. I don’t know what happened to him as a puppy, or if he was always like this…”

“It’s ok,” Mycroft said gently. “It would be nice if people just understood that usually if they get bitten then they’ve done something to cause it, like doing something to a strange dog.”

“Yeah. People think they can do what they like, though, and the consequences are everyone else’s fault. And it’s not like he bites hard; no blood, just a warning.”

Mycroft chuckled and tossed Silver some bread. “That statement is applicable to society in general.”

 

Greg grinned at him. “I’m glad I met you,” he said. “You’re so kind and thoughtful.”

Mycroft blushed and shied away. “I haven’t really had much experience with…” _friends, boyfriends, flirting, conversation_ … “uh, spending time with people my age. Or any people,” he added quietly.

“Well getting out with your dog can be good for that too,” Greg said with a grin. “I mean, we’re talking now, aren’t we?”

Mycroft blushed again as he bit his roll. He nodded, smiling softly, as he chewed. “I was surprised that not all dog owners are friendly to others,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, it’s like that. Some are snooty, some are just prissy. Most only like interacting with people whose dogs are like their own.” Greg took the last bite of his roll and passed Snowflake the remaining strip of meat. “Some of them are awful, but there are lots of nice people to just say hi to in passing.”

“Mhm,” Mycroft hummed in agreement. “I have only been here once and already have found that.” He screwed his face as he remembered the short elderly lady sneering at him while her dog tried to bite Silver. “Intensely.”

“Oh, so you’ve met Demon then?”

“Demon?”

“Yeah. Little, white hair, very aggressive?”

“Oh. Yes,” he grumbled with a huff.

Greg lay back on the bench as he looked at Mycroft, grinning companionably. “Her dog’s a piece of work too.”

Mycroft couldn’t help it. He snorted as he burst out laughing, a deep, honest laugh. He clasped his hand over his mouth as he tried to stifle the giggles. He hadn’t laughed like that in a long time.

 

He looked at Greg, expecting him to tease him about the snort, only to find the boy’s eyes sparkling. “You have a cute laugh,” Greg said to him, still beaming, and looking at him with… _is that affection?_

“You’re a bit cheeky, Greg,” he ventured.

Greg lolled his head back and looked up at the sky. “My girlfriend used to say that.”

Mycroft’s stomach dropped. “Oh. So, are you…?”

“No!” Greg sat up and looked at him. “No, we broke up ages ago.”

Mycroft was still overwhelmed with the disappointment that this wonder of a boy wasn’t actually interested in him, and so didn’t think too much about his next question. “Wanted different things?”

“No, uh, kinda the opposite,” Greg said, blushing and looking down at Snowflake.

Mycroft frowned. “You… oh.” His heart leapt. _That’s definitely the logical conclusion from that, right?_ He bit his lip.

“That’s… ok, right?” Greg asked hesitantly. “I just thought maybe–”

“Yes,” Mycroft interjected quickly. “That’s… yes. Good. Uh, ok.” _Damn it all, why can’t I speak properly around him? I’m doing a good job of embarrassing myself._ He chanced another glance up at Greg, seeing the boy looking a lot more shy than he had before.

Mycroft looked back down to Silver, who was looking at him curiously, almost as if he could sense the change in atmosphere between them too. Silver looked to Greg, back to Mycroft, and then tilted his head. ‘What are you waiting for?’ Silver seemed to be asking him.

Suddenly his words failed him all together. He found that he’d started to sweat, his heart pounded, and he couldn’t get enough air. Silver whimpered and started nuzzling him, concerned.

 

Mycroft scritched his fur. Silver licked his hand, and tried to jump up to lick his face. Mycroft said nothing, but pushed him back to the ground and leant forward so that Silver could give him a kiss. ‘It’s alright’, he was saying. Mycroft felt calmer already.

“He’s affectionate,” Greg said softly.

“He’s a good boy,” Mycroft mumbled.

Snowflake had taken an interest and stood up and joined Silver to sniff at Mycroft’s face. Mycroft smiled warmly and him, and reached his hand out and started stroking along Snowflake’s shoulder.

“Would you look at that, he’s letting you touch him!” Greg cried out, but then dropped his voice as if not to spook his dog. “That’s incredible.”

“Most people go for the head when trying to pat a strange dog. That’s rather intimidating to creatures that are afraid; looming over them and going for the face like that. It’s much less scary to be on their level and show that they have some control with a less threatening action.”

“You know a lot about anxious dogs. Did you have one once?”

“No, Silver’s my first,” Mycroft answered. He was rubbing along Snowflake’s chest and back now. “I just can put myself in his place easily.”

“Oh.” Greg’s tone made it clear he understood what Mycroft was saying, but knew enough to not blurt it out. That Mycroft had avoided stating it clearly indicated enough it was a difficult topic to discuss. “Shows that you’re intelligent and caring.”

“Hm?” Mycroft looked up to Greg.

“Not everyone can empathise like that.”

Mycroft sat back upright. “It’s instinctual for me.”

“It’s nice to be around someone like that for a change,” Greg said, the shy grin returning. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Most of my mates are selfish jerks, really. I mean, I’m a bit of a dick sometimes too, but I was raised to be kind and considerate despite the, uh, rebellious nature I guess,” Greg laughed.

_Oh, yes, you are a bad boy, aren’t you?_ Mycroft chastised himself, shocked that his mind had said that. He really didn’t need to get _more_ interested in Greg. That could get disastrous very quickly.

“I get upset that most of my mates don’t seem to think that way as well,” Greg continued, unaware of Mycroft’s inner turmoil.

“Maybe you need to spend time with someone else?” Mycroft asked, biting his lip and looking back at Silver when he realised what he’d just said.

“I’d like to, if he’d be alright with that,” Greg said quietly, bending over a little and looking at Mycroft.

Mycroft smiled and nodded. “I’d like that very much.”

“Could I have your phone number?” Greg asked quickly. “So, uh, I can ask when you’re free to catch up and, I dunno, go for a walk with the dogs? Or do something else?”

 

Mycroft was feeling a twinge of sadness at the feeling that their interaction was coming to a close, but glad that there certainly was another date ( _no, stop it, not a date_ ) ahead now that they had exchanged numbers.

“Do you live close by?” Greg asked.

“A little out of town,” Mycroft responded. “Musgrave Hall.”

“Oh, out there; yeah, I know it. Big place.” Greg’s face showed that he was thinking about the money Mycroft’s family must have to live there, but wasn’t going to mention it. “I’d wondered who lived there.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Big old place on lots of land but never any livestock or people about.”

“Ah. Well I’m not exactly the most outdoorsy-type of person,” Mycroft said shyly. “But I accompany my little brother outside to watch him.”

Greg nodded. “I didn’t think there were kids living there. I don’t mean to sound like a stalker,” he added quickly, “but I’ve ridden by there a bit. One of my mates has some cattle out by the river.”

“It’s just me and my brother.”

“Still.”

Mycroft wasn’t sure what he meant, but didn’t ask. _Probably expected toys to be left out in the fields or a swing set on the lawn._

“So you go to some fancy school then?”

“Why do you ask?”

“No, no I didn’t mean it like that,” Greg said quickly, sensing the slight defensive tone. “Just that… I haven’t seen you around at school. There’s only the one close by, after all. Thought maybe you went to one closer in to London or something.”

“Sherlock and I are home schooled.”

“You both have interesting names. It’s cute.”

Mycroft blushed again; _cute?_ “Sherlock will be attending the local school in the new year.”

“Will you?”

“No, I’ll be headed to university.”

Greg frowned. “Oh, I thought… you look young.”

_Young._ He was, but usually people opted for more voluptuous adjectives when describing him. He wasn’t excessively overweight, but portly enough for it to be a painful subject and a prime candidate for people to tease him about.

 

“I’m sixteen,” Mycroft answered. “Though I am completing the A-Levels this year.”

“Seriously? Me too, but I’m eighteen. You must be really smart then.”

Mycroft decided not to say that he would easily have been able to pass the A-Levels with top scores two years ago, but his parents made him stay home until Sherlock was ten. Given how terrified he was to be alone at university around people so much his senior, he didn’t argue.

“And modest,” Greg uttered. “You haven’t rubbed your smarts in this whole time, and you’re not even answering me let alone boasting.” Greg rubbed his arm awkwardly. “Sorry, you’re probably sick of people praising you for stuff like that,” he mumbled.

“No.” Mycroft then panicked when he realised how that sounded. “I mean, I don’t really talk to many people, just my family, and they don’t… I’m not exactly well liked,” he fumbled.

Greg looked at him confused. “How do you mean? If you only talk to your family how are you not well liked by who you talk to?”

_It must be nice to be so used to family being kind to you to not understand how it could be otherwise_ , Mycroft thought bitterly. He sighed. “When you have so much expected of you, it’s only just ‘acceptable’ when you meet those expectations, not anything to be praised over.”

“Oh.” Greg looked down at Snowflake and ruffled his head, clearly unsure what to say. “I’ll praise you for them instead,” he mumbled. “I mean, just, you know,” he added quickly.

Mycroft didn’t ‘know’, but he was glad for the sentiment.

 

Unfortunately, he was aware that his father would be returning soon to collect him, and thus putting an end to his conversation with this lovely young man. He made sure to organise another time to meet before leaving, even if he had to collapse from the stress of doing so once in the car.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock came into his room as Mycroft was smiling giddily at his phone, amazed still to see the number of Greg Lestrade in his contacts. 

“Sherlock, I told you to knock before entering,” he said, hiding his phone. 

“It’s not like you ever are doing anything I shouldn’t see,” Sherlock protested. 

“That’s not the point. You have to respect people’s privacy.”

“Why?”

Sherlock padded over to the bed and jumped up to join him and Silver. The dog licked Sherlock’s face once as a greeting, and then returned his head on Mycroft’s pillow. 

“We’ve spoken about this before, Lock. Privacy is something people value. And you never know, one day you might walk into something you would rather you didn’t.” 

Sherlock pursed his lips and hugged his stuffed parrot toy that Mycroft had gotten him for his birthday last year. It still warmed him to see that his little brother loved it enough to carry it around. 

“What was on your phone that made you look like that?”

“Like what?” Mycroft retorted quickly, face flushing. 

“You were all… smiley, and like when I find the treasure chests of coins.” 

“Nothing, Lock.” 

  


Sherlock decided not to press the issue, for which Mycroft was glad. It wasn’t strange for his little brother to come into his room and just sit for company; although he might never admit it, Mycroft enjoyed it as well.

“Was there something you wanted, brother mine?” Mycroft asked, just to check. 

“Have you finished your homework?” 

Mycroft looked at the desk. No, he hadn’t. However, what he hadn’t done was the extra work that he’d elected to do after a pointed ‘suggestion’ from Mummy. He decided that it didn’t need doing. 

“Yes; did you want to go outside and play?”

“Can we play hide and seek with Silver?”

“Of course we can.” 

Sherlock grinned and jumped off the bed. He held out his hand for Mycroft to take. He took it, relishing the chance. It wasn’t often these days that Sherlock wanted such affection, but did when feeling lonely.  _I wonder if he’s starting to worry about me leaving next year?_

“Silver, come,” Mycroft called, and the pup jumped down and wagged his tail enthusiastically. 

  


Silver sat at Mycroft’s feet while Sherlock went and found a hiding place. After a few minutes, Mycroft instructed Silver to ‘Find Sherlock’, and off he bounded. He had his nose to the ground, walking back and forth as he tried to trace the scent. 

Once he’d found Sherlock hiding in a log, Silver stood and barked loudly. Silver was sniffling and licking Sherlock, the boy giggling and half-heartedly pushing the dog away, when Mycroft arrived. He whistled, and Silver came up to him to receive his treat. 

“Again, again!” Sherlock cried. 

“Alright. This time, I’ll take Silver back to the house and you find somewhere else to hide. Remember not to go to the pond, though, Sherlock.”

“Yes, Myckie.” 

Silver trotted at Mycroft’s side, nosing his hand for more treats as he went. Mycroft ruffled his head, but Silver ducked away, clearly trying to show he was only interested in the treats. 

Once at the front gate, Mycroft crouched down and scrunched Silver’s fur as he cooed into his face. He loved running his hands through the light soft fur. Silver enjoyed a good rub, too. Mycroft would rub at his dark ears, and Silver would twitch his back leg. Silver also loved having his chest scratched hard, all the way down to behind his elbows. 

After a vigorous rub of the chest, Silver decided it was belly rub time, collapsing and twisting below Mycroft with a wagging tail. Mycroft obliged, telling Silver he was a good boy all the while. 

  


He stood, deciding it had been enough time for Sherlock to hide. Mycroft liked to simulate what would happen if there was a real man hunt for his little brother, and so walked with Silver after commanding to ‘Find Sherlock’, calling out Sherlock’s name all the time. 

They’d agreed that if Mycroft wanted Sherlock to come out and answer, he’d call out ‘Yellowbeard’ – Sherlock’s pirate name that he chose for himself after calling Mycroft ‘Redbeard’ once Mycroft had started growing facial hair. Mycroft had insisted that he  _not_ be called that, but the name Yellowbeard had stuck in his brother’s mind. 

Silver ran in a sweep, going back and forth to pick up the direction of the scent. Sherlock’s smell was all over the grounds to varying degrees, and Mycroft didn’t know if that helped or hindered Silver’s efforts to locate him. 

Twice Silver ran back up to Mycroft for a treat, but Mycroft just repeated the command. Silver had to learn that he had to actually  _find_ Sherlock, not just look for him. After ten minutes, Mycroft worried that Silver was losing interest. Generally Sherlock was found by now, and he was only eight months old with a short attention span. 

Barking sounded from the distance, and so Mycroft hurried towards the sound. He had to resist the urge to call out for Silver, because last time he’d done that, Silver had rushed to him and left Sherlock alone – he then became bored of the game and wouldn’t go back because he didn’t get a treat. 

He had to find some way to make Silver keep barking, though. He decided to risk calling out and trying again. 

“Silver!” 

 

He waited a moment, and Silver came bursting through the bushes. Mycroft praised him and petted him. “Find Sherlock,” he instructed, waving his hands outwards. 

Thankfully, Silver ran back out the way he came and started barking again. Mycroft decided he  _had_ to break into a run and find the pair. 

“Good boy Silver!” 

Silver darted over to Mycroft and jumped up. 

“No, sit, boy.”

Silver obliged and happily received his favourite treat – dried liver. 

“Hehe, this is fun,” Sherlock said. He was muddy and had some leaves in his hair. 

“Oh Lock, where did you go hide? You’re filthy.”

“I know, it’s fun.” 

Mycroft screwed up his nose. He couldn’t understand how getting muddy could be considered ‘fun’ at all. “Well, come on. We best get you cleaned up before Mummy sees.”

Sherlock slumped, obviously still wanting to play, but nodded. “I don’t know why she cares. I like mud. I don’t care if my clothes stay muddy.”

“Mummy cares, and that’s all that matters,” Mycroft said, cringing as he heard his father’s voice say it in his head. 

“Well, we could give Silver a bath with the hose? I could spray you down too.”

“Yeah!” Sherlock shouted, suddenly excited again. “I’ll scrub him all bubbly!” 

Mycroft chuckled. He made a mental note to go back to the pet store for some more dog shampoo and conditioner. Sherlock enjoyed using far too much of the stuff. 

  


~

  


Mycroft sat up in bed reading, but his mind still drifted back to Greg. Silver lay beside him with his head on his belly, and Mycroft enjoyed peacefully stroking his head as he read. It was much easier to concentrate on schoolwork when Silver was around. 

There was a knock at the door. Silver perked up, watched intently, and then wagged his tail – and so Mycroft knew it was his little brother at the door. 

“Come in, Sherlock.”

Sherlock was clad in his pyjamas and socked feet, clutching his stuffed parrot. He looked shyly into the room. Mycroft put his book down and smiled warmly. 

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Sherlock shook his head and padded over to join the two of them in the bed. Silver licked Sherlock’s cheek and returned his head to Mycroft’s belly. 

“What you reading?”

“Something boring,” Mycroft chuckled. He shifted and sat upright more. “Would you like to me to read you a story?”

Sherlock nodded. “Don’t tell Mummy,” he mumbled quietly. 

“I won’t.” 

 

Mycroft smiled sadly. Mummy was very much against them spending time together at night, insisting that Sherlock had to ‘grow up’ – bedtime stories had long been something she considered ‘in the past’. 

“Do you have a book?” 

“No.” 

Sherlock snuck closer into the bed, clearly not wanting to go looking for one either.  _Something’s scared him._ Mycroft didn’t have any suitable books in his room, but decided to just tell a story on the spot instead of disturbing his little brother. 

“Why don’t I tell you about when I walked Silver in the park the other day?”

Sherlock nodded. “Was there lots of other doggies?”

“Yes, there were. Silver was really good around them, even the mean ones.”

“There was mean ones?”

“Mhm,” Mycroft hummed, remembering the little white dog. He then snorted and chuckled remembering Greg calling the owner ‘Demon’. 

“What is it?” Sherlock asked, looking confused. 

“Just something Greg said to me.”

“Who’s Greg?”

“A boy I met in the park.”

“Is he gonna be your boyfriend?”

Mycroft instantly flushed red. “W-what makes you say that?”

“Well, you like boys.” 

Mycroft wasn’t sure how his brother knew that, let alone knew what it meant, but just let it pass. Sherlock might not be as bright as he was, but he was still a lot smarter than the average child. 

“I just met him, Lock. He has a husky the same age as Silver, and so we’re going to meet up to socialise the dogs.”

“So you want him to be.” Sherlock looked pleased with himself. “I’m ok with that, by the way.” 

“I… thank you, Sherlock.” Mycroft didn’t know what else to say. It was complicated; he didn’t think that Greg could ever want someone like him – awkward, chubby, and with a range of issues – but he couldn’t deny his heart desperately wishing for it.

 

He hugged Sherlock. Silver whined, complaining that his head was jostled out of the way for the hug. He chuckled and ruffled the dog’s grey head. 

“It was nice. I saw a Labrador, and a few terriers, and a border collie.” 

“Did Silver play with them all?”

“No; most dogs wanted to keep to themselves. But Snowflake ended up wanting to play.”

“Snowflake? Greg’s husky?”

“Mhm,” he hummed. “He’s copper with blue eyes and a v-shaped white face.” 

“Like you!” 

“Hm?” Mycroft tilted his head. 

“You have copper hair, a white face, and blue eyes.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Mycroft said slowly, realising that he actually had a lot in common with Snowflake the husky.

“No, I  _am_ right, Myckie.” 

Mycroft chuckled softly and ruffled Sherlock’s mess of curls. 

“Can I play with the husky?”

“If he lets you. Snowflake is really scared of people to start with. But I think if you come with me and Silver, he’ll see that you’re not scary.” 

“I’ll be sure not to bring my sword so he knows I’m friendly,” Sherlock mumbled as he became sleepy, cuddled up with Mycroft. “I could play with them while you and Greg do boyfriend things.”

Mycroft flushed red again, his mouth going dry. “What’s that? What do you think boyfriends do?”

“Holding hands, icky kissing, that kind of thing.”

 

_Yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea, Sherlock. You’d be welcome to go play with the dogs and leave me and Greg for lots and lots of kissing…_

“Myckie?”

“Sorry, what was that, Sherlock?”

“I haven’t said anything yet, I just wanted you to listen,” Sherlock said, an unusual lack of ordering to his tone. Then he said softly, “I’m glad you managed to find a friend.”

Mycroft paused. “Thank you, Sherlock.”

There was a moment before Sherlock asked, “Do you think I’ll be able to find one too, next year?” 

The small, scared tone of Sherlock’s voice hit Mycroft in the gut. He squeezed his little brother close. “I’m sure you will, Lock. It might take a while, and there’s always going to be mean people out there, but someone will want to be your friend.” 


	8. Chapter 8

Mycroft’s heart pounded the moment he saw Greg. He wanted to reach out and hug him as a means of greeting, as a handshake seemed horribly formal, but he was also terrified that it’d seem too intimate for the stage of relationship they had.

Sherlock had joined him to spend the afternoon with Greg and Snowflake. Father was driving to London, and so would pick them all up on his way back home. They had several hours together as a result, and Mycroft was desperately looking forward to seeing Greg’s house as per his offer.

 

“Remember to be slow and still, Sherlock,” Mycroft reminded as Snowflake approached. He trusted Greg not to endanger Sherlock, but his little brother didn’t read emotions in _people_ very well – Mycroft didn’t hold any hope of him recognising emotions in a dog.

“Yes, Mycroft. You said already.”

“I just don’t want you bitten.”

“I won’t. Look at me with Silver! Besides, you said the husky was a good boy.”

“Not all dogs are like Silver. Snowflake is very good in some ways, but not in others. He bites if he gets scared and thinks you might hurt him.”

“Yes, Myckie,” Sherlock said with an exasperated sigh. Mycroft knew he was being a tad overprotective, but he couldn’t help it. It’d been his responsibility to care for Sherlock’s wellbeing since he was born.

“Myc! Hey!” Greg called the moment he was a few metres away. “Great to see you.”

“And you, Gregory.”

Every muscle in his body tensed as Greg grabbed him in a hug. _Oh my god, he’s hugging me. He’s actually hugging me. Oh god this is incredible. Quick, hug back, you idiot!_ Mycroft reached around and squeezed, enjoying the contact more than he knew he should.

Pulling away, Greg seemed to be trying to keep the contact going; Mycroft blushed again, cursing his fair skin, and looked away with a smile. _I’d hug you all day, but people would stare._

“I’m looking forward to today,” Mycroft said. It was an understatement, but saying more would have scared the boy away.

“Oh, me too. We’ll have some pizza for an early dinner and head to mine to, dunno, watch a movie or something until your dad comes back?”

“Sounds wonderful.” _Perfect. Exquisite. Exemplary. All the adjectives._ Mycroft cleared his throat and addressed the husky nuzzling his leg. “And hello to you too Snowflake!”

He rubbed Snowflake’s cheek and few times and then his head. The husky did enjoy face rubs, much like Silver, but only permitted those he trusted to touch him there. It felt like an honour each time Mycroft was able to do so.

“I’m so happy he’s warmed to you and Silver.”

“As am I.” _For it gives me reason to see you._

“Myckie!” Sherlock protested. Mycroft shifted his attention instantly to his side where his little brother stood, having been temporarily forgotten.

“Oh, my apologies, brother mine. Sherlock, this is Gregory – uh, Greg – and this is Snowflake.”

“Hello Gregory Uh Greg,” Sherlock said, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“That’s what my friends call me,” Greg answered happily, giving Mycroft a quick wink. “Nice to meet you Sherlock.”

Sherlock grinned and nodded. “Your dog is pretty,” he said as he crouched in front of Snowflake.

“Yes, he’s stunning,” Greg agreed.

 

Mycroft watched intently as Sherlock stuck his hand out to Snowflake. The husky was surprisingly excited to greet Sherlock, and stepped closer with a wagging tail. His little brother then rubbed the copper fur along Snowflake’s back as the dog circled him happily.

“Would you look at that! Snow loves him.”

“Possibly because he smells like Silver and me,” Mycroft suggested. “Or he feels less threatened by children. It’s possible the adults in his old home hurt him but the children comforted him.”

“Yeah, I didn’t think about it like that.” Greg laughed and then bumped Mycroft with his shoulder. “You’re so smart.”

Mycroft blushed and shrunk. Greg then paused and looked at him seriously, holding his arm.

“That’s a good thing, Myc,” Greg said. “Don’t be ashamed of being smart.”

“Mummy always says to us both not to let others know, because they don’t like it.”

From Greg’s expression, it seemed he was ready to say something rather unsavoury about Mycroft’s mother, but decided against it. Mycroft felt a rush of affection towards him.

“Well, if you’re not being arrogant or looking down on anyone, then people can go screw themselves if they get their nose out of joint by you being smart.” Greg nodded once to inforce his point. “It’s not something to be ashamed of. World needs more smart kind people.”

Mycroft bit his lip to prevent himself from gushing words of appreciation that would border inappropriate. _Stop clenching, heart! You’ll screw up any chance I have of being around him._

“People are idiots, though,” Sherlock piped up. He turned his attention from Snowflake to Greg. “It doesn’t matter what you say to them, they’ll always be offended by something… so why bother trying not to offend?”

Greg paused and looked at Mycroft. He then knelt down to Sherlock’s level, and cuddled Snowflake while looking at Sherlock.

“How we treat other people is a reflection of who we are, not of them.” Greg smiled and gave Snowflake a chest rub. “If everyone only cared for others as an extent of what they receive… well, that’d be a pretty poor life, wouldn’t it?”

Sherlock frowned, confused. Greg pressed a kiss onto Snowflake’s head. “Like with Snow here. At first he was really timid around me, but that didn’t stop me trying to give him cuddles and love. He didn’t return my affection at first, but I hoped he’d learn to just because I would keep doing it.”

“That isn’t the same. People aren’t dogs.”

“They’re more like dogs than you think,” Greg hummed, and then stood. Mycroft was standing in shock at Greg’s wisdom. He couldn’t understand how this rough-looking carefree teenager could gain such a perspective. _It’s obvious he has a caring heart, but it seems he’s also intelligent and genuinely selfless._

“Myc? You ok?”

Mycroft shook himself briefly, aware that he’d been standing there unmoving while thinking. “Sorry. Yes, fine. Sherlock you should listen to Grego– to Greg. If you treat the other boys in school brashly and cold, thinking that’s what they’ll do to you, then you’ll only cause them to do it. If you’re friendly and patient with them then maybe they’ll do the same.”

“Even if they are horrible? That seems like a waste of my time and effort.”

“It’s not, brother mine.”

“But you always try so hard to make Mummy happy and she never does the same for you, and I’ve seen you cry from it, Myckie. I don’t understand how this is different and why I should bother.”

Mycroft’s eyes blew wide and his heart started pounding. He looked at Greg, embarrassed. “Sherlock,” he hissed through his teeth.

“It’s alright, Myc,” Greg said, his tone kind. He had a sympathetic expression on his face. He rubbed Mycroft’s arm softly before returning his attention to Sherlock. “Adults are complicated and there can be many reasons for things. First and foremost try to remember that what you do shows who _you_ are, not what others deserve.”

Greg’s eyes flickered up to Mycroft’s, a supportive smile there, and then back to Sherlock. “Why don’t you take Silver and start walking up front with Snow?”

Sherlock nodded and took the leash from Mycroft, walking happily with the two dogs. Snowflake was on a retractable leash, but remained walking beside Silver at whatever pace Sherlock chose. Mycroft and Greg walked a few steps behind.  

 

Greg cleared his throat. “Sorry if I overstepped a bit, Myc,” he said quietly while rubbing the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t really lecture your brother–”

“It’s fine,” Mycroft interrupted quickly. “Good, really.” Mycroft cleared his throat, cursing his lack of eloquence. “I mean, it’s things that need saying and he is more likely to listen to you than me.”

“I don’t think so. I mean, you’re his brother.”

“Yes, exactly. He is becoming more and more rebellious as he ages and taking on my advice is something done with increasing rarity.”

“That’s just what happens,” Greg laughed. “He still values it, though. He’s just not going to show you that he pays attention as much anymore. I was the same when I was becoming a teenager. Thinking I was all grown up and independent. A bit older than him, mind, but he’s smart for his age.”

“Intelligence does not equate with maturity,” Mycroft mumbled.

“True, true. It’s obvious he loves you and depends on you, though, Myc. I think you’re afraid of him pulling away from you.”

Greg quickly looked away, down at the ground as they walked, clearly thinking he’d overstepped again. Mycroft didn’t have any other friends by which to judge boundaries, but he was happy for Greg to be this honest.

“I am,” he admitted. He looked forward at Sherlock happily bending forward to investigate the smell at a bush both dogs had their faces in. “I worry about leaving next year.”

Greg didn’t say anything. He looked around the park, and then slipped his hand into Mycroft’s. _Oh dear lord, he’s holding my hand_. Mycroft’s heart thumped against his chest and he felt like breathing was suddenly a difficulty, but his stomach was so excited it was doing flips.

“It’ll be hard on him, yes, but you can’t put your life on hold for him.”

“But what if he resents me for it?” Mycroft’s voice was small and pained. “What if he thinks I abandoned him?”

Greg squeezed their hands. “He might feel like that, given he’s had you there his whole life. But one day he’ll be able to see it with perspective outside that of a ten year old.”

“Nine,” Mycroft corrected automatically. “Sorry. Yes, that’s possible, but I worry still for the mean time. Sherlock is very strong willed, and once he makes up his mind, he sticks to it. I-I don’t want him to decide that he hates me.”

“He loves you, Myc.”

“But he’ll be left all alone. Our parents are hardly there for either of us, even if they dote on him–”

“You worry a lot,” Greg interrupted. “Can’t tell you if it’s founded or not; we’ve only known each other a month or so. But I have a younger sister, and so know a little what it’s like to have the worries of a big brother. And I know that deep down, they’ll always still love you.”

Mycroft felt tears threaten in his eyes. He was glad that he could remain walking holding Greg’s hand. There was no one else around in that area of the park, and so he could feel the support and comfort without fear of others seeing.

 

Greg could undoubtedly sense the strong emotions that threaded the atmosphere, and so tried to lighten the mood. He chuckled. “Well at least you don’t have to worry about Sherlock getting pregnant.”

Mycroft snorted and laughed. “No, thank heavens. Nor will I have to consider that issue for some time.”

“I _hope_ it’ll be a long time for me too, but…” Greg shrugged. “Older brother worries ‘n all.”

“Sophie is fourteen, correct?”

“Yeah.”

Mycroft didn’t know what else to say. He _assumed_ it would be some years before Greg had to concern himself with that particular worry, but he honestly didn’t know what young people were actually like.

“Myckie! Look! It’s a frog!”

“Don’t fall in, Lock,” Mycroft called out, watching his brother peering into the lake. He was glad for the change in topic.

“I won’t.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes as his little brother bent further in over the water’s edge. “Sherlock,” he warned. “I don’t want you all muddy.”

“But I want the frog.”

“You don’t have anywhere to put it. We’re going to Gregory’s later, remember? Leave it in its home.”

Sherlock turned to look up at Mycroft, pouting. Silver was still interested in the ducks that swam in the water, and looked ready to jump in. He was ready to call Silver back before the inevitable happened, but he was too late.

Silver tugged on the leash as a duck came close, and Sherlock wobbled on the water’s edge. Amazingly, Snowflake reacted and tugged at Sherlock’s pants at the belt, pulling him back onto steady ground.

Mycroft jumped the few metres between him and Sherlock. He sighed as he pulled Sherlock’s arm away from the muddy bank and took Silver’s leash.

“Good boy, Snow!” Greg cooed, ruffling his dog’s face. “That’s my good boy.”

Snowflake seemed proud of himself, standing tall and wagging his tail. Mycroft joined in praising him.

“You are a good boy, Snowflake.” Mycroft stroked the dog’s soft head. “Thank you.”

Silver snorted and head butted Mycroft’s leg. He chuckled and looked at the pleading amber eyes. “Yes, you’re a good boy too, Silver,” he said exasperatedly, despite grinning and rubbing Silver’s dark ear.


	9. Chapter 9

“It’s starting to get a bit late. Do you want to walk and get dinner?” Greg asked as they stood at the playground.

“Yes, that sounds fine to me.” Mycroft cleared his throat. “I, uh, w-would you mind watching Silver while I use the toilet?”

“Of course.” Greg grinned at him. “He seems happy just playing with Sherlock and Snow.”

Mycroft nodded. Silver had been having a great time running about the playground with Sherlock and Snowflake. They were the only ones there, and so Greg had let Snowflake off leash in the fenced area. Apparently, while Snowflake was extremely attached to Greg, he also had a tendency to go wandering and not come when called. Mycroft expected as much, given what he knew of huskies.

Looking back over his shoulder as he walked to the toilets, he saw Silver eyeing him intently. He just smiled, feeling warm. Silver always liked to know where Mycroft was. Sherlock ran by and caught his attention, and so Silver followed to keep playing ‘pirates’.

 

Once exiting the toilet block, he was confronted with three large intimidating young men. Mycroft froze on the spot; his heart instantly started pounding and he felt like something was strangling him.

“Oi, you, poncy boy. You lookin’ like youse got money,” one of the men – probably around twenty-two – said to him. “So hand it over.”

The two other men moved to surround him. Mycroft recoiled, stepping backwards. His back pressed against the concrete. He was trembling. His mind just couldn’t process anything other than the panic he felt.

“You fick or what?” one of the other men barked at him.

“He’s a bloody bender,” the other sneered. “Look at ‘im.”

Mycroft exhaled, letting out a faint, high-pitched squeal. The men laughed at him and stepped closer again.

“We’s gonna have to just take it, seems,” the first one said, glaring into Mycroft’s eyes menacingly. He opened his mouth to sneer something else at him, but Mycroft never found out what. They all froze at the sound of an intimidating bark.

 

They looked to the side to see Silver bolting towards them, teeth bared, snarling. In an instant, Silver had lunged, but not to bite. He’d managed to jump right in front of Mycroft and just stood there, standing right between Mycroft and his assailants.

The men looked terrified. Silver barked and snapped at them. Mycroft wasn’t aware of exactly what happened next, but he was sinking to the ground and the men weren’t there anymore.

He started to breathe again, gasping in air now that the threat had gone. He was shaking and his heart still pounded in his ears. Silver was right up in his face, nosing him; the cold press of his nose tickled against his skin.

“Mycroft! Myc, are you alright?” Greg’s voice said distantly. _No, no… Gregory can’t see me like this! What on earth is he going to think? I can’t show him this weakness._

He tried to control himself but he couldn’t seem to breathe. He was starting to feel dizzy. Silver decided to shove his face into Mycroft’s and lick at his mouth.

Mycroft clasped his mouth shut and turned away, pushing Silver’s face backward, but the dog wasn’t deterred. He continued to try his hardest to get his tongue inside Mycroft’s mouth or up his nostril. Mycroft could only try keep his face buried away from the slobbery assault.

Mycroft started to feel better; he wasn’t dizzy anymore and he felt less like needing to gasp for air. He regained enough brainpower to remember that Silver had done this in the past, and it had helped – trying to avoid being licked forced him not to hyperventilate.

 

He looked forward and thankfully, Silver decided he’d had enough kisses. He still tried to stand on Mycroft, rubbing against him, but Mycroft was thankful for the fur to clutch and so let him.

“Myc, are you ok?” Greg repeated. Mycroft looked up to see Greg crouched beside him. He then became aware he could hear Snowflake crying and howling in the background.

Mycroft swallowed and nodded. He tried to stand. Greg took his arm and helped him up.

“You’re white as a sheet. Come on. We’ll go get some food and get you back to mine, yeah?”

Mycroft nodded, unable to do much else. Greg didn’t let go of his arm; he wasn’t going to protest. After a few steps, his shaking body stumbled and his knees buckled. Greg reacted instantly, keeping him upright with the grip on his arm and slipping another around his waist.

“Whoa, I’ve got you,” Greg exclaimed, holding him close. He threw Mycroft’s arm around his shoulders and continued to steady him around the waist.

Mycroft’s heart started racing for an entirely different reason, but the comfort he was feeling from being cared for kept the panic at bay over the contact.

They walked back to the playground were Snowflake and Sherlock were slowly.

“I’ve heard of those tossers,” Greg mumbled. “I’m sorry.” He lowered Mycroft down to sit on the bench by the playground.

“N–” Mycroft swallowed. “Not your fault. It was just a-a shock.”

“Yeah. No kidding. Good thing you have your little guardian,” Greg said, patting Silver’s head, who had remained close to Mycroft still. “He was up and over the little fence the moment he saw you surrounded.”

Mycroft scritched his fur slowly. “He’s a good boy,” he uttered. Silver just stared up at Mycroft.

“Yeah. Look at him. If you ever doubt that someone loves you, just remember that face.”

It was a more profound statement than Greg probably realised, and it hit Mycroft hard.

“Myckie, are you alright?” Sherlock asked him, approaching with some water. “Here.”

“Yes. Thank you, Lock.”

“This happens sometimes,” Sherlock mumbled to Greg. “But he’s doing much better already than normal.”

Mycroft’s cheeks flushed again. _Thank you for revealing that, Sherlock._ He didn’t feel resentment towards his little brother for it, though. Sherlock was just making a statement.

“I’m glad to hear.”

 

Mycroft sipped at the water while Greg leashed the still-complaining Snowflake and attached him to the bench. Silver licked Snowflake’s muzzle, and then returned to sitting on Mycroft’s feet.

He could sense that Greg wanted to talk about Mycroft’s reaction, but was hesitating. “It’s been an issue all my life,” he said with a sigh.

“What has?”

“Anxiety.”

“I-I wasn’t going to ask.”

“Oh. I thought… never mind.”

“What?”

Mycroft looked at Greg. “As much as people” – he paused to find the right word – “unnerve me, I understand their intent and body language well. You had something you wanted to say, but found it awkward; obviously, you were curious about my panic attack.”

“Yes and no,” Greg chuckled. Mycroft frowned at him, curiously asking for more information. “I did have something awkward on my mind, but it wasn’t about that.”

Mycroft swallowed. “Alright.”

“I-I was just thinking… I felt very protective of you, when I saw those thugs rounding on you. More than just as some vigilante. I care for you, Mycroft.”

“Oh just kiss already,” Sherlock griped, thrusting his arms together over his chest. “I know you want to.”

“Sherlock,” Mycroft hissed, “stop it.” He grabbed his own elbow and drew it into his body, trying to make himself small. “I-I’m sorry, about him,” he mumbled to Greg.

“Don’t be.” Greg smiled warmly at him and interlaced their fingers, much to Mycroft’s shock. “He’s not wrong.”

Mycroft’s eyes went wide. _Honestly? He just said that? He wants to kiss me?_

“Is that… ok?”

Mycroft found that words failed him, and so he just nodded with a mild incredulous expression on his face. Greg visibly relaxed, and his smile remained bright.

“Good.” His eyes darted to Sherlock. “Soon.”

Mycroft simply nodded again. Greg squeezed his hand before letting go. “Gotta buy you dinner first,” he said as he stood. “I might look like a no-good scruff, but I’m still a gentleman.”

“I like the way you look,” Mycroft blurted out before he could stop himself. It had been quite the intense half hour.

“I’m glad to hear it.” Greg laughed. Sherlock made a gagging sound behind them, and so Greg rolled his eyes and turned around. “Yes yes, come on. Pizza.”


	10. Chapter 10

“Alright Sally?”

“Alright, Greg.”

Greg strolled into the pizza shop and greeted the dark-skinned woman with frankly outrageous hair genially. She seemed to know Greg well. Why quickly became clear, as Greg continued to walk into the shop and past the counter.

“Thought you weren’t working today?”

“I’m not,” Greg answered while grabbing two pizza bases.

Mycroft stood at the counter by the display of toppings, looking somewhat awkward as the two spoke. Sherlock didn’t seem to care, instead focusing on the menu.

“Then get your arse outta my way,” Sally said. She finished the pizza she was working on and tossed it onto the conveyor.

“Come on, Sal. I’m, er,” – Greg cleared his throat and briefly looked at Mycroft – “you know.”

Sally fixed him with a look, and raised her eyebrow. Greg stepped closer and uttered, “I want him to like me,” thinking that Mycroft couldn’t hear him.

“Alright, boss,” she responded quietly. She then stood upright and announced, “Now that I think of it, I should do some refilling of ingredients. I’ll just go into the stockroom and get them.”

 

Greg blushed as she went by, whispering something that Mycroft couldn’t hear. He then slid the bases over to the counter before the ingredients.

“So, what’ll it be?”

“I’m not hungry,” Sherlock protested.

“Sherlock, you have to eat something,” Mycroft reminded softly. “And we’re eating at Greg’s place, remember?”

Sherlock considered this for a moment. “Does that mean I can pick whatever I want?”

Greg looked at Sherlock and then to Mycroft with a questioning look. Mycroft looked away. What was he supposed to say? That their parents were always overly critical over their eating habits? That Mummy was so fixated on the weight Mycroft carried that Sherlock was afraid to eat in case of getting as large as him, and subsequently receive the same comments from their parents?

Greg seemed to understand, even a little, for he looked directly at Sherlock and said, “Of course you can, mate. None of this ‘eating healthy’ bullshit here. This is a special treat, so make it good. If that means you want four kinds of cheese and bacon, then good.”

Sherlock’s eyes blew wide at the sound of it. He looked uncertainly at Mycroft, and then back to Greg, almost as if asking what the catch was. Mycroft’s lips tugged, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

_Sherlock’s too skinny because he’s rightly afraid to look like me. He can have the cheese, but if I have any hope of Gregory liking me, then I can’t show that I would be so gluttonous._  

“Same goes for you too,” Greg said to him, a little too pointedly to be a mere off-handed comment. _What’s he saying? Surely he can’t be actually wanting me to pick unhealthy things, knowing what it’ll do to my appearance?_

“I want what you said,” Sherlock said excitedly. “And ham. And chicken. And garlic!”

“Calm down, Sherlock.”

“Sorry Mycroft,” Sherlock mumbled, removing his arms from the counter.

“Coming right up,” Greg said enthusiastically, reaching for the ingredients. “Tomato base? Personally I’d recommend just an olive oil base with some crushed garlic with those choices.”

“Yes that sounds good.”

 

Greg started preparing the pizza. “And you, gorgeous?” he asked, not looking up.

Mycroft squeaked slightly at the term of endearment and blushed yet again. He could see signs of redness reach Greg’s ears, and so likely had ventured saying it while he could be looking away.

No one had ever called him that before. He didn’t think anyone would. He was so silently stunned that Sherlock had to elbow him in the side. “Bad manners, Myckie, not to answer people,” he said with the tone of someone who’d been told so himself often enough.

Mycroft exhaled the breath he was holding. “I-I don’t mind.”

“Well, tell me what you like.”

“Anything vegetarian.”

Greg tilted his head. “You are allowed to have a preference, you know,” he chuckled.

“No peppers,” Mycroft said, clipped.

Greg must have been able to see his anxiety over having to choose, and so simply nodded and proceeded to prepare a pizza with a variety of vegetables. “Which cheese?”

‘ _Which’,_ Mycroft noted, _not if I would like any._ “Parmesan,” he said, assuming that was one of the options. It was a stronger cheese and therefore less was used.

“I like a good strong cheese too. I like things with a bit of body.” Greg flushed red again, not looking up as he sprinkled the cheese over the pizza. Mycroft wasn’t sure why.

“There are a great many cheeses that have a distinct and strong flavour; I enjoy quite a few. Do you have any favourites?” he asked. Greg seemed to be slightly disappointed. _Isn’t this what conversing is? Have I done something wrong?_

“Just anything, really. I’m not fussy. I’ll take mild, soft, strong, hard… you name it. S’not like I have much available and all to try, that is.” Greg laughed as he put the pizzas in the oven.

“You would be most welcome to join me for a cheese platter at some stage.”

Greg paused as he pulled out another base. “Yeah, I’d like that.” He grinned while he tossed together a pizza for himself. “What about you? What cheese do you like?”

“I am partial to aged gouda,” Mycroft said, raising his chin as he thought. “Vintage aged cheddar is nice too. There are some varieties infused with herbs, or sometimes chilli, and some that are smoked. Stilton is also agreeable.”

“That’s the blue one, yeah?”

“Not all, but yes, the blue variety is widely recognised.”

Greg screwed up his nose. “I dunno, mouldy cheese? Doesn’t it seem like we shouldn’t eat things that have gone mouldy?”

“Do you enjoy brie, or camembert?”

“Yeah, it’s great.”

Mycroft frowned, confused. “You do know the white outer is a mould, right?”

Greg froze. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Greg smiled and shook his head. “What do you know. You’re so smart. I bet you could tell me a lot about anything.” He winked at Mycroft, still smiling. “Guess I’m game to try it then.”

 

Mycroft didn’t have a chance to respond. He was too flustered to say anything initially, and Sherlock interrupted with an over dramatic sigh.

“I’m going outside to wait. Silver and Snow are more interesting than listening to you two talk about _cheese_ of all things.”

Sherlock stomped out of the store. Snowflake started howling loudly again once someone was there to listen to him again, and Silver started bouncing about as much as his leash would let him. Mycroft smiled at the sight through the window. _At least he’s safe out there alone with those two._ His throat clenched and his eyes stung all of a sudden. _Good boy, Silver._


	11. Chapter 11

They were huddled up on the couch, a futon, underneath a fluffy blanket. The movie was interesting, but not as much as having Greg’s body so close to his own. Mycroft had to forcibly keep himself looking at the screen.

Pizza had been wonderful, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a meal and not been concerned with how much he ate or what it was that he was eating. Sherlock had eaten his entire pizza – the first time he’d finished his meal in just as long.

Silver had stared intently at Mycroft the entire time, and Snowflake had even let his head rest on Greg’s lap to beg for scraps. Greg had laughed at how adorable he’d been, and fed him bits and pieces. Silver had been upset that Mycroft was not as willing to share; cheese wasn’t exactly good for dogs.

Sherlock hadn’t wanted to sit still and watch the movie. Instead he’d taken the dogs out into the backyard and was undoubtedly getting covered in mud and grass. Mycroft couldn’t say he minded, not when it left him alone with Gregory.

 

There was a shift in movement, and Greg started to cuddle into him. His breath hitched.

“Mm, you’re nice and warm,” Greg commented.

“So are you,” Mycroft said, unable to think. _He’s cuddling into me. He’s actually touching me. What do I do? Am I supposed to cuddle back?_

“I knew you’d be great for snuggling.” Greg shifted again, closer still so that he slid his arm all the way over Mycroft’s body and pressed his chest against Mycroft’s shoulder. “Soft and cuddly.”

Mycroft swallowed. Greg was so close, he could smell the boy’s shampoo. _I want to kiss him so badly._

“This is ok, right?”

“Yes,” he answered instantly. _Too quickly?_

“Good.” Greg turned his attention away from the movie and looked into Mycroft’s eyes. “I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.”

“You’re not.” _Damn it, Mycroft, say something clever or witty. Use that brain!_

“Good. You will tell me if I do, right?”

Greg’s face had moved closer, and his eyes had flickered to Mycroft’s lips. Mycroft’s heart pounded so much he could hear the blood rush in his ears. He nodded, unable to do much else. His throat had closed up and would only make high-pitched squeaks if he’d tried to answer.

Greg smiled, warm and bright. He then moved forward and pressed his lips against Mycroft’s. It was tender and tentative, more asking permission if it was alright to do so. Mycroft desperately wanted to respond, but his brain had fried. He couldn’t do anything but stay there, frozen, as his mind tried to catch up.

“Ok?” Greg whispered.

He swallowed. “Yes.”

“Can I kiss you again?”

“Please.”

 

Greg moved in and kissed him again, harder this time. Mycroft could feel the move of lips on his, the slight tug and sucking. _My first kiss. Oh dear lord, it’s incredible. I’m being kissed._ Mycroft was able to respond, just mimicking Greg’s movements, and it seemed to please.

“You’re so nice and soft everywhere,” Greg breathed. He was looking at Mycroft adoringly as he let a hand press down onto Mycroft’s chest.

Mycroft didn’t know if he should be complimenting Greg as well, or if that’d be too much. He didn’t know what to do, either. Was he supposed to try kiss back again, or did he have to wait for Greg? Could he touch the boy’s cheek or was that presumptuous?

“You’re thinking too much.” Greg nuzzled at his nose and then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t think. Just do. I won’t mind, I promise.”

Mycroft slid a shaking hand up and ran his finger’s over Greg’s cheek. “You’re so handsome,” he uttered. “I was taken by you the moment I saw you.”

“Really? Me too. I wanted to know more of that cute man in the nice suit.”

Mycroft was about to rebuke the statement, that he wasn’t cute, but Greg pressed a finger to his lips and kissed him instead.

 

Mycroft was too engrossed in the experience to notice Silver had come back inside until he jumped up on the couch to join the kissing.

Greg laughed and broke away as Mycroft groaned, pushing the dog back down to be free from the onslaught of licks.

“Yes, hello Silver,” Mycroft said, slightly disappointed.

“Myckie! It’s almost time for Father to pick us up,” Sherlock said as he walked into the room a second later. Suddenly Mycroft was glad that Silver had ended the kiss before his little brother saw.

“It is?”

“What… ergh, gross. At least I didn’t have to see it,” Sherlock said, screwing up his face.

Greg frowned, confused. Mycroft rolled his eyes, despite the pink blush. “He is very observant,” he explained. Greg understood after a beat and chuckled.

“Could have been worse. Your dad could have walked in to fetch you and seen.”

“Indeed,” he agreed. He honestly had no idea how Father would react. Mycroft doubted he’d mind so much that he was gay – surely he’d have worked that out by now – but he never thought it something within the realms of possibility to deal with.

 

~

“Did you have a nice time, boys?”

“Yes, Father!” Sherlock answered enthusiastically from the back seat. “Silver did too!”

“I’m glad to hear. And you, Mycroft?”

“Oh, he did,” Sherlock answered. “Myckie and Greg _kissed,_ ” he sung, stretching out the last word.

Mycroft instantly went tense and darted his eyes towards his father in panic.

“Sherlock, you shouldn’t tease your brother like that,” Father chided. Sherlock stopped chuckling.

_This is it. I have to say something._ “A-actually, Father,” he started, trying hard to breathe normally. “He’s not. I-I _am_ gay.”

“Well of course you are, Mycroft,” Father said casually. “That’s not news to any of us.”

  _Oh. That’s good that he knows, and is ok with it, right?_ _But then why was he telling Sherlock off?_

“I meant it’s not nice to joke about that.”

“Joke?”

“Yes,” Father said, not taking his eyes from the road. “Mycroft, honestly, you need to be more aware of what people mean in conversation. It’ll end up hurting you one day.”

“Yes Father.” He still had no idea what the joke supposedly was.

“Your brother was poking fun at the fact that your friend is an attractive young man and so would not be interested in you, like most, regardless of your feelings.”

Mycroft sunk into himself. He knew he shouldn’t be hurt, but the statements like that from his parents still managed to stab him in the gut. _I should be used to it by now,_ he thought. _Doesn’t matter that it really happened then._

Part of him had hoped that Sherlock would fight to state the truth, like he did on many occasions, but annoyingly his brother elected to remain silent.

 

~

 

That night Mycroft cuddled up with Silver in bed, texting Gregory. It was a nice ritual for Mycroft to spend time with his dog in bed before sleeping; Silver always jumped back down and curled up in his own bed once Mycroft turned off the light.

Tonight Mycroft held around Silver’s middle a little tighter than usual. His loyal companion could sense something was amiss and let himself be hugged, even rubbing himself up against Mycroft’s chest sometimes.

  * **Of course I wanted it, Mycroft. I wouldn’t have done so if I didn’t!**
  * **I was just… checking.**
  * **Did something happen?**



 Mycroft looked at his phone, shocked that Gregory could pick up on the fact that things weren’t all fine. _How? I was being normal, wasn’t I?_

  * **Father seemed to think it ridiculous that you would want to kiss me.**
  * **You told your father? Brave man.**
  * **Sherlock told him.**
  * **Haha! The joys of little brothers. Yeah, I know I’m nothing special and he probably thinks me way too lower class for you. But you don’t think that, right?**
  * **What? No! Of course not! Actually he meant it the other way around, that an ‘attractive young man’ like you wouldn’t want to kiss someone like me.**
  * **That’s an awful thing to say to you! What’s his problem? Mean and blind?**



Mycroft wasn’t sure if he should be honest and reveal how his parents tended to treat him, or that compared to his mother, Father was being nice.

He rested his head on Silver. He could feel tears threatening that he instantly scolded himself for; he was sixteen, he shouldn’t cry! Silver looked up and nuzzled, giving a quick lick. It was very supportive and gave him courage to keep talking to his friend. _Boyfriend? Does one kiss mean we’re dating now? How does that work? How do I ask him about this without him thinking I’m being presumptuous? How do normal people talk about these things?_

Silver stood and pressed Mycroft down onto the bed, licking his face over and over. It was then he realised that he’d started to gasp for air. He reached up and grabbed the tufts of fur on Silver’s cheeks, focusing on the soft feel as he let his heart calm down. Keeping his mouth shut to avoid slobber helped, as always, to make sure he breathed normally.

  * **Mycroft? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your father. I just was surprised that he’d tell you that when you are wonderful and adorable.**



Mycroft made a slight wheeze as he saw the text. _He thinks I’m wonderful? And adorable? Why would he say that, if not meaning it?_ Mycroft bit his lip.

  * **Sorry for not responding. Silver decided he needed to show how much he loved me with his tongue.**



He smiled, pleased that he could show his whimsical side to Gregory. Silver had settled down beside him now that he was laying on his back, head rested on his chest.

  * **Good! You listen to Silver. He loves you very much and isn’t afraid to tell you. You need more of that, I think.**
  * **You’re very perceptive**



Instantly Mycroft wanted to take the text message back. _How could I have said that? Why does talking with Gregory make me speak without thinking?_

  * **Do you… is it ok if I ask if you think that as well?**
  * **Think what?**
  * **That you’re not attractive enough for me**



_Yes, completely._ Mycroft bit his tongue. Why was talking such a hard activity? At least in text message he could take a moment to compose his answer without revealing body language.

Silver whimpered at him, the subtle noise he made when more wanting to remind Mycroft he was there rather than ask for anything. Mycroft looked into those amber eyes and nodded.

“Be honest,” he whispered to his dog. Silver’s ears perked up at the noise, but then relaxed when no more words were forthcoming.

  * **It’s an empirical fact rather than opinion, however.**
  * **It is not! I had to look up what empirical meant, which itself shows how much out of my league you are mentally. And you are attractive, Myc. Not a magazine, sure, but you know what? Not everyone likes that. And what does it matter anyway when the important part is the inside?**
  * **My whole life I’ve been told otherwise. It’s hard to believe you in light of that. I accepted that I’m simply just not loveable.**
  * **Believe it mate. If not me, then your boy. You look into his eyes and you’ll find just love without a shit about appearance because of who you are inside. Loveable.**




End file.
